7

“This is so cool,” Cece says through a glowing smile as she stirs a straw through a glass of rum and coke. I’m not sure if she’s talking about the drink, or the general idea of being in a club itself. “I’ve been living on the wrong side of the tracks.”

I respond to her with a glowing but forced smile. She’s so out of her element that it’d make one hell of a primetime sketch show. “Be careful what you wish for. Everyone wishes they were on the other side.”

“That’s true, I suppose.”

For her first time in a club—and for her personality, or lack of therefore—she actually managed to look decent. She’s outfitted in a black dress that’s a size too small on her, but she wears it good. However, I’m sure her mother wouldn’t approve.

“So…” I lean across the table. “Is there anyone special in your life?”

“Not exactly.” Her eyes trail to the bar behind me. “I mean…”

“Is he here?” I ask, and spin my head around to face the bar. Among a sea of women in short skirts peppered with fraternity bros in between, there’s one man in particular that stands out. He’s a model that hasn’t been signed yet. An attractive douchebag who has to know when he sees his own reflection that he’s God’s gift to whatever team he plays for. Oh yeah, and he’s totally out of Cece’s league. I just found my angle. “Him?” I ask and turn back to her.

“Would you be quiet?” She leans across the table and whispers, “His name is Rafe and he’s in my Intro to Sociology class.”

“Rafe?” My brow furrows. “That can’t be his real name.”

“Well, it’s technically Ralph or Raphael. Something like that.”

“Yeah… I’d stick with Rafe.” I push myself back against my seat and grab my drink. “So, have you guys hit it off yet?”

“Not exactly.”

“Why?”

“Because of the whole True Love Revolution, chastity, waiting until I’m married to mess around thing.” When she’s done, her breath is spent and she throws herself back against her seat. “Ugh.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t date.”

“I guess you’re right” Her lips form a childish pout. “But, it’s not like he would give me the time of day.”

“You never know what a guy’s thinking until he speaks.”

“Speaking of drinking—“

Huh?

She jumps from her seat and grabs her purse off the table. “I need to use the bathroom.” She races for the women’s bathroom that’s situated adjacent to our table. Her flats patter against the flooring, creating an obnoxious symphony of impatience.

I turn in my seat and feast my eyes upon Rafe. He’s the kind of guy I would love to spend a summer with before ruining his life. He wears a cropped purple v-neck that contours around the bulk of the muscles in his chest, and clings tightly to his biceps. His hair is slicked back and curled to the side, like a modern day Gatsby—that’s fitting, I suppose.

His golden eyes pass over mine a time or two before he looks on. He gives me a knowing smile and grabs his beer off the bar. I cross my legs as he approaches and swing my long, brown hair to one side.

“Hello, Gorgeous,” I say in the sexiest voice I can muster. I’m more than ready for the games to begin.

He leans down and throws his elbow onto the table. “Hey.”

“And what can I do for you?”

“I’m actually here for your friend.”

That’s the sound of a record scratching. “Her?”

“Yeah, she reminds me of home.” He almost sounds like a child, a hulking contrast to the frame of his perfect and manly body.

It’s the sickest shit I’ve ever heard. If I still had a heart, I’m sure it would be melting. But I don’t. So, it’s sick. I can’t get behind anyone who has fond memories of home. Home isn’t something you should miss. It’s something to get away from. “That’s beautiful,” I say, betraying my thoughts. It’s a good thing I’m not one of those word vomit people.

“Yeah,” he mumbles to himself. “You never really get away from it.”

“I don’t think she’s your type.”

“Really?” he asks with a raised brow. “From what I know, she’s exactly my type.”

“And what have you heard?”

“That she’s nice and down to earth.” He nods his head and takes a sip of beer. “That she’s an overall good girl. Like I said, she reminds me of home.”

Jesus Christ. He’s a beautiful, blustering idiot. He’s perfect for her, but imperfect for my plan. I’ll need to make a move, and make it fast. Elsewise, my house of cards will tumble like the hut of the first pig in that fabled nursery rhyme.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the bathroom door swing open so I make my move and lean in close to whisper into his ear. I manipulate my voice so that my words are inaudible to him, forcing him to move closer to me. I can feel his breath dancing along my neck.

“Why have her, when you can have me?”

He pulls back and shakes his head. “No, thanks.”

I shrug it off, because his rejection doesn’t bother me. I know I got exactly what I wanted when Cece slings her purse across her shoulder and bolts for the front door.

I chase Cece out the front door of Gatsby’s, storming past a growing line of mid-twenties college students and young professionals. The air is thick and humid, and a spring thunderstorm seems to be in the immediate forecast.

“Cece,” I call out. “That’s not what it looked like.”

She spins to face me. “I’ve seen Mean Girls one too many times. I know exactly what that was.”

“Cece…”

“Don’t!” She throws her finger pointer in the air, warning me to keep my distance. “I thought you were my friend.”

“Your friend? I barely know you.” For a moment, I let my façade slip. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No.” She shakes her head and bites into her lip. She looks hurt, and it’s a foreign idea to me. It’s been years since I was powerless enough to let a stranger affect me. “You’ve got a real penchant for being honest. It’s almost admirable.”

“Can I tell you something?” I ask as I approach her, trying to regain her trust so I can set this plan into motion.

She shrugs and looks away from me. “Do I have a choice?”

“He is so not my type.”

“Another lie,” she accuses with another pointed finger.

“What?”

“Tessa warned me about you.”

“Who?”

“Tessa. She was sitting next to me at the meeting.”

I purse my lips and shake my head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“It wouldn’t, would it? You know what your problem is, Apple? You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true.”

“Bullshit,” she screams.

Woah. I can appreciate cursing, it’s a step in the right direction toward who I need her to be, but woah. I latch onto her arm and pull her into the dark alley. We don’t need to be making a scene in front of the entire downtown party scene.

“She told me you were trouble,” she reiterates and brushes a finger against her eye. I’m going to preface this by saying I’m not into women, but Cece has the sultriest of voices when she’s upset—a dense, raspy tone that could spin any man into a tailspin.

“Tessa, whoever the hell she is, doesn’t know me.”

“Everyone knows you, Apple. You have a reputation around campus.” She laughs uncomfortably. “A bad one. And from what Tessa told me, Rafe is exactly the kind of man you’re into.”

“Rafe’s an asshole,” I scoff, knowing full well he’s probably the nicest man downtown right now. It’s all a part of an intricate plan.

“Exactly. He’s an asshole and you’re a bi—“ she cuts herself off before she finishes her thoughts. A good idea.

I roll my tongue across my lips and chew into my cheek. “I think I want to have a talk with this Tessa.”